All The Reasons Why
by WriterandDaydreamer4218
Summary: Because Vision didn't fall in love with Wanda all at once. Written in honor of Scarlet Vision Appreciation Day 2016.
1. I

**Hi everybody! So, I read somewhere that today is Scarlet Vision Appreciation Day on Tumblr and I figured I might as well write something because that's my OTP. It was originally going to be just a short 3,000 or 4,000 word one shot but as you can see it's more like 9,000 words. I feel like I should probably apologize for that.**

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Marvel**

 **Enjoy!**

 **~A~**

 **Her Eyes**

When the city of Sokovia had fallen out of the sky, he hadn't let Wanda fall with it.

Vision knew she wanted to; he had felt her despair when she realized that her brother, the only person she had left in the world, had fallen to the ground riddled with bullet holes. He sensed her relief, the feeling that she didn't need to grieve for him because she would be joining him soon enough. He had perceived these things in half a second-and he had not let her have her wish. Instead he had rescued her from the city even though he knew it wasn't what she wanted, because there was some part of him on a level that even he couldn't reach that refused to let her die. Not right now. Not like this.

When he'd woken up, created from a flash of lightning, the cradle of a genius scientist, an evil robot bent on world domination, and the minds of two visionary inventors with too much power for their own good, hers had been the first face he'd seen. The first mind he recognized, really; he could still remember how she had tried to look inside of his head when he was still in development. Perhaps that was why he'd formed a connection with her that he couldn't quite describe-and perhaps that was why he found himself compelled to save her.

Or perhaps it had something to do with her eyes. They were beautiful, of course; brown and thoughtful even when she was quiet-but there was something about them that he couldn't quite place. He could read her vulnerability quite plainly; she was young, afraid, out of her depth, and wracked with guilt. And yet, beneath all of that pain and sorrow there was a streak of what could only be described as true strength-the strength of someone who had been beaten by the world again and again and had always, _always_ gotten back up to fight. It drew him to her, made him want to whisk her away from the world and everyone who wanted to hurt her without reason or logic. Of course there had been too much else to do in the build up to the battle in Sokovia so he hadn't had much of a chance to think about the way he felt until much later, when all was said and done and there wasn't a chance to change anything anyway.

He hadn't told anyone where he was going or why he was leaving-and he'd almost been too late. For a split second as he searched amid the flying debris and fallen apartment buildings without finding her, he thought he'd waited too long and she was already dead. But then he had seen a flash of red from inside the wreck of a bombed out bus mutilated in the fighting and he knew he'd found what he was looking for.

He wondered, even now, what she must have thought when she looked up with the wreck of Ultron's metal heart clutched in her hand to see him coming towards her like an angel of deliverance from on high. He wouldn't know; perhaps he wouldn't even understand. Even then he'd realized he wasn't human; her mind worked a different way than his did. It was fragile, easily broken-and yet, infinitely more beautiful than his could ever be.

He had picked her up gently, watching as she let go of the metal in her hand and it evaporated with the rest of the city. Then he had flown away, towards the helicarrier and the safety it provided. She had been soft and light in his arms, but she did not cry; still in shock, the grief hadn't sunk in yet the way it would in the days and months to follow. Rather, she looked up at him with an awe that was almost child like-and there were her eyes again, torn with grief and sorrow but still strong. Still the eyes of someone who wanted to fight, even if she didn't quite know it yet.

"I'm sorry." he said quietly. She didn't respond; he wondered if she'd even heard him.

Arriving at the helicarrier, he had set her down amid a crowd of medics, survivors, and SHIELD agents alike. It didn't matter that everyone was staring at him like something out of a science fiction novel (which, he supposed, he was); he had to make sure she would be taken care of. Almost immediately she was rushed away by a team of medical professionals who would clean out her cuts and give her tissues so she could wipe the tears from her eyes but would do nothing about the injuries she suffered inside. What could they do, really?

She'd looked back at him only once, eyes looking him over with an inscrutable expression before she was pulled away by the doctors. In that moment, he couldn't tell whether or not she hated him-and it didn't matter either way. He had saved her and she would be safe. That was all that mattered.

It wasn't until much later that she thanked him for what he did. He easily waved away her words, saying that he would have saved her anyway. And it was true; he would have.

Even then, he'd known that he would always save her.

~A~

 **Her Guilt**

The nightmares came three weeks later.

They'd just gotten settled in Avengers Tower, where Tony had offered them a place to stay while the New Avengers facility in upstate New York was under construction-because technically they were all Avengers, unofficially or not. Steve immediately took charge of team bonding, packing everyone's days with mindless games of capture the flag and other icebreakers that wouldn't have been out of place in a kindergarten classroom. However, Vision knew he had an ulterior motive-namely, he wanted to distract everyone from what had happened in Sokovia. Especially Wanda.

Vision didn't think it worked that well. Sure, their newest member participated whenever she had to-but when she didn't she spent her days in her room staring at nothing and at night she cried silent tears. Because he didn't need sleep, he spent his nights wandering around the Tower, usually considering the perplexity of human existence-but now he spent his time on sentry duty outside her bedroom, trying to decide whether it would be prudent to go inside and comfort her for whatever it was worth. He was synthetic; he knew nothing about how to comfort someone. So instead he would stand outside for hours, telling himself that if she ever cried out he would go to her aid. But she never did; her tears were shed inwardly and gone by morning, though the dark circles and tired demeanor persisted long after the sun rose.

He noticed that, as the days and weeks went on, she didn't get better. In fact, she only got worse-becoming more and more withdrawn and looking more and more hopeless with every day that passed. He knew the others were starting to worry about her but none of them had any idea what to do. None of them knew what to do about a girl with the power to destroy a small town contained in her bare hands.

So Vision stepped up to the challenge one night, when the nightmares got so bad he was surprised Wanda hadn't woken up herself. He stood by her bedside for a moment or two, trying to gather his thoughts, and then slowly shook the sleeping girl awake. It took a couple of minutes to break her from the throes of her nightmare; then she came awake all at once, brown eyes frightened and brown hair wild. He saw how she looked about in confusion, as though she'd temporarily forgotten where she was. "It's all right now." he said softly, as though talking to a lost animal. "You're safe."

"What are you doing here?" Her voice was filled with confusion-and maybe a little distrust. Her eyes flitted past him to the open door, letting in the grey light of moonlight in the hallway outside.

"You cried out. I came to see if you were all right."

"That's very kind of you, but I'm fine, really-"

"That wasn't the first nightmare, was it?"

He'd surprised her. She stopped midsentence and bit her lip, looking up at him as if to say _How much do you know?_ "...No. I guess not."

"How long have you had them?"

She looked away. "A few days. Not long." _A lie._ He waited quietly until she continued. "Or...maybe it's more like a few weeks. But they weren't always this bad."

"What do you dream about?"

She shrugged and laughed mirthlessly. "The usual things, I suppose. The night my parents died, the day Pietro died...only this time it's worse, because I see them dying and I stand there, frozen, even though I have the power to save them. It's the same thing every night...but it always seems to hurt more and more." She seemed to shut down, as if deciding she'd said too much.

"I've heard it is natural to feel grief after the loss of a loved one."

"Is it normal for it to feel like it's tearing you apart?"

"You will feel better, given time." She didn't respond; she'd probably heard the same see through advice more than once. Vision couldn't imagine the thoughts going through her head; all he knew was that he couldn't leave her alone. Not in the state she was in, so she could slip back into the grasp of another nightmare. "Follow me." He stood up and padded quietly into the silent hallway, smiling slightly when he heard her get up and follow him after a minute of watching incredulity. A clock on the wall read 2:37 AM.

In the kitchen, he pulled out a chair for her to sit in at the table while he put some tea on to boil, flavoring it carefully with chamomile-that was supposed to be a calming agent. "You don't need to make me tea-" she started but he pretended not to hear her.

"Chamomile is soothing for the nerves. You will feel much better-and perhaps you will be able to rest more peacefully."

She sighed and added, nearly inaudibly, "I don't think so."

She drank her tea in silence for a little while, while Vision watched her curiously. She seemed barely there; her mind was obviously busy elsewhere, probably thinking about her brother and what she had lost. "How long have you known?" she asked quietly, toying with the rim of the ceramic cup he'd found in the back of the cupboard. It had come from some convention in Los Angeles-obviously one of Tony's.

"A few weeks now." he replied just as quietly. "You seemed as though you wanted to work through it on your own...but there's only so many nights you can stay sleepless. The others are starting to worry."

"That's very sweet of them...but they should know that I won't fit in with them. With this." She gestured to the entire expanse of the Tower-the high ceilings, electric lights that glittered from every surface, and the soft leather recliners in front of the television that were perfect for an afternoon nap. "A month ago, I'd never seen this much luxury in one place in my entire life. A single piece of furniture could have sold for enough money to buy...us food for six months." Her voice thickened slightly, as though remembering that the 'us' had been split apart. With a small sigh, she pushed her cup away-still half full. "I'm...not thirsty anymore. But I appreciate the effort, Vizh." She stood up and turned to leave, fingernails digging into her palm.

She'd almost reached the doorway when Vision said "It's not your fault."

She stopped short, shoulders rigid, and for a moment he thought he'd done something wrong. "What?"

"What happened to your brother-to your parents, to your country-was not your fault. Nor was it Mr. Stark's. They were all victims of circumstance. You should not blame yourself."

For a moment, she was very, very quiet. "How can you say that? If I had just been thinking clearly, just for one second...if I hadn't made Mr. Stark see his worst nightmare...if he'd never built Ultron…" Her voice died in her throat, but she forced herself to go on. "If he'd never built Ultron, then there would never have been a fight in the first place and my brother would still be alive." She was weighed down with guilt; the same burden every member of the team struggled with every single day. However, she could only see the negative things she'd done-which made her load ten times worse.

"Vengeance is an ugly thing, Miss Maximoff. It controls people, consumes them, tears their lives apart...but it does not make them killers. You are not a killer. Yes, you made a mistake...but so does everyone. No human is perfect; it is simply not in the genetic coding. Humans are designed to fail and to make mistakes...but even that can be forgiven, provided you stand up and make amends, to the best of your ability. And you have done that. With every day you are here, every day you are an Avenger, you make amends. And what happened to your brother was Ultron's fault, not yours. Stop carrying his burden on your shoulders. He is at peace now-but you can only move on if you can let him go." He took a few steps towards her, cautiously, taking her arm and leading her to the couch in the den so he could gauge her reactions.

A silent sob wracked her body. "What if I can't? It's been eleven years and...I can barely remember my parents. Whenever I try to picture their faces...they look blurred. Things don't make sense. They don't add up. I don't want to forget my brother, too."

"You'll never forget him. Even if you may forget the curve of his face, the sound of his laugh...his essence, that of the person he was and the brother you knew for your entire life, will always be with you. He will always be with you, if not in body-but you must let him go. You must allow yourself to move on, to live for yourself and begin again as an Avenger-not to forget, but to forgive. But he will always be your brother, no matter how much time passes."

The silent sniffles turned to heaving sobs and Vision held her, not minding that she soaked his outfit with her tears. For what felt like hours she cried every single tear she'd held in since the funeral, since that terrible day in Sokovia when she'd lost everything that had ever been dear to her. And still he held her. Still he handed her tissues and gingerly wiped the tears from her eyes. Still he helped her stand and walked her back to her bedroom when she no longer had any tears left to cry.

"Thank you." she said quietly as he lingered in the doorway, watching carefully as she climbed beneath the duvet. Her eyes were still red from crying but she seemed lighter somehow, as though she'd gotten rid of part of the invisible weight that held her down. "And...Miss Maximoff seems too formal. I think it's best if you call me Wanda."

"As you wish...Wanda." He tried the name out cautiously, enjoying the way it rolled from his tongue. A beautiful name for a beautiful girl, even with tears on her face and bloodshot eyes. "And...it was of no consequence. If you ever need me, I will be here." He left her sleeping peacefully, for the first time in weeks.

He never saw her like that again-that vulnerable and that sad. But he couldn't quite get the picture out of his mind. The charming, intelligent, and caring young woman who sparred him so enthusiastically in training couldn't be the same one who had allowed him to hold her as she worked through her grief in the only way she knew how. But there she was, another side to her multifaceted personality, another chink in her nearly impenetrable armor. He never thought she was weak; rather, her moments of weakness enticed him, made him want to hold and protect her whenever he could. He gained a new kind of respect for the girl with so many faces, who smiled during the daytime to hide the nighttime tears. Although the nightmares still came, they came with less frequency and intensity. Whenever she needed him, he was always there with tea.

~A~

 **Her Kindness**

Almost as soon as Clint and Laura heard that Wanda no longer had any kind of family whatsoever, she was immediately absorbed into the extended Barton clan. Vision suspected that at first this may have had to do with the fact that Pietro Maximoff had died in service to Clint, but soon they were taking care of her not because they had to but because they wanted to. And he knew that it meant the world to Wanda that she had a place where she truly felt welcomed-where she could truly have a family.

After a few months, it was no longer out of the ordinary for Wanda to watch Clint's children, Cooper, Lila, and Nathaniel, for a few hours while Clint and Laura got dinner and went to the movies-or even simply go to the Barton farm for a meal. Lila especially adored her, treating her like the big sister she had never had. Vision always volunteered to drive up to the farm when the outing was finished; he found he truly enjoyed the peace and quiet it afforded him, past acre upon acre of flowering meadows.

One day, Clint pulled him inside the split level farmhouse before he could so much as raise a hand to knock. Vision barely had time to say "I've come to pick up Wanda-" before Clint silenced him with a dismissive wave of his hand.

"Yeah, I know. But come on-you've got to see this first." He followed him to the doorway that led to the living room-and it didn't take long for him to see what the retired Avenger meant.

Wanda was seated on the couch, reading a book to Cooper and Lila. They sat on either side of her; Lila was lying down completely with her head on Wanda's lap, listening to the story intently while the older girl absentmindedly braided her brown hair in a simple braid down her back in between flipping the pages. Vision couldn't help smiling, for a reason he couldn't quite explain; Wanda looked calm, peaceful, and...happy. Happier than he'd seen her in a long time.

"Isn't it sweet?" Laura said, joining them as she finished washing a ceramic plate with a border of cardinals ringing its outer edge. "She's so good with the kids. They both adore her."

"I hope you don't mind if we borrow her a few more times this summer." Clint said quietly, careful not to disturb the readers in the other room. "There's lots of good movies coming out."

"Of course not. I'm sure she'll love that." He couldn't take his eyes off her; so different from the shy, introverted girl who was making steps to assimilate to the team but still tended to wander the hallways like a ghost. It was like she became a different person entirely when she was around the children.

Wanda happened to look up and see them in the doorway; she blushed red and closed the book quickly, giving him an almost apologetic smile as she said "We'll have to finish it next time, okay?" _Don't look sorry; not when it obviously makes you so happy._

Lila threw her arms around her waist and hugged tightly. "You'll come back, won't you? Really soon."

She laughed. "Yes, as soon as I can."

Vision was tempted to ask her about it on the drive back; what changed when she stepped through the doors to the farmhouse? But he didn't say anything; it was her secret to keep, if she wanted it. Although he suspected it had to do with a sense of belonging, a sense that she needed; a sense she couldn't find at the Avengers base, not even with him.

~A~

 **Her Patience**

Every day, Vision is struck anew by just how complex humans are. They've taken their ability to evolve and used it to their full advantage, creating things both wonderful and terrible: buildings so tall they penetrate the cloud layer, vaccines to cure any disease, vehicles that run faster than sound itself...and yet, besides the things he can see, there are so many other things at play. Some things, some concepts, he can't name or describe: _anger, pleasure, jealousy, hatred, love…_

So many new things that are uniquely human.

So many emotions, feelings, that he will never understand. He's an android; his heart, his mind, and his entire body are made of the same basic components: synthetic. Cold. He had never experienced...emotions before, and he didn't think he ever would. And yet, he wanted to understand as best he could. If he was going to protect humanity, he figured he would need to know as much about it as he possibly could. So he gathered information the only way he knew how to.

He questioned things. A lot. He immersed himself in human culture, experiencing what he could and reading up on what he couldn't. He asked whoever would listen to explain what hatred was, or disgust, or loneliness. He tried to understand, even when he couldn't, what humans felt-and how their emotions led them to live such reckless, terrifying, _beautiful_ lives. He simply couldn't understand how vengeance could consume a person or survivor's guilt could become a lifetime's burden...why someone would be willing to risk everything they knew and cared about simply in pursuit of love. He knew about these things in theory, of course, but he had never experienced them himself. And he doubted he ever would.

Everyone in the Avengers compound reacted to his questioning in different ways. Natasha was helpful for a time, until she started getting annoyed with him and finally began directing him to other people instead. Steve, Sam, and Rhodey tried their best but they usually ended up confusing him more than they helped.

Just like always, Wanda was a different story.

"Wanda, what is love?" he asked her one night. The team had just finished watching _Titanic_ ; although it was a very good movie, he hadn't understood why Rose would risk her comfortable home life and social standing to pursue a boy she had only met once or twice-and why Jack would risk his very freedom just to be with her instead.

She took a moment to think about it; obviously, it wasn't a question she was used to hearing. "That's a tough question, Vizh. Love isn't really the kind of thing you can explain."

"Try. Please."

"Okay…" She took another minute to think up her answer. "It's...sort of a warm feeling that you get in your heart when you think about someone that you care about. You...feel happy when you're around them and you enjoy their company. You would do anything to keep them safe and happy, no matter what. Even if it's illogical...even if it's impractical. Their happiness means everything to you."

He thought about that for a second: caring about a person so much that their happiness became more important than your own well being. "You loved your brother, didn't you?"

She looked away, worrying the edge of the couch throw pillow between her fingers. "Yes. I loved Pietro very much."

He knew he needed to phrase his next words very carefully; the last thing he wanted was to make her sad or upset. "But when he died...it hurt you deeply. What if you love someone, but they do not love you back-or they love you, but then you lose them? It results in sadness and heartache."

"If you love someone, that pain is worth it to you. And you would do it all again, the good and the bad, the hard and the easy, even if it meant that things turned out the exact same way and you still got hurt, if it meant you still felt their love." She shook her head, sighing. "I'm sorry I'm not making much sense. I'm trying the best I can so it makes sense to you-"

"You're doing just fine, Wanda." he replied. "I believe I do understand it, on some sort of rudimentary level. So...love is illogical, and impractical, but if you live without it you never really live at all?"

She gave him one of her rare smiles. "Yes, I suppose that's one way of thinking about it."

"Have you ever been in love?"

He couldn't miss the way her body temperature rose just slightly or the way heat seemed to creep up the back of her neck. "No, not like that." He didn't press; he didn't feel the need to. Maybe he would never feel love himself, but at least now he could try to understand how it felt.

After that, Wanda became his go to for any and all questions related to human emotions and customs. She carefully explained hate and disgust to him, how fear was worrying about a possible outcome of an event that could cause harm to you or a loved one, how loneliness came when you were alone with no one to talk to. She tried (more than once) to explain the concept of doors and privacy, why humans showed such obvious displays of affection no matter where they were, and why racism and prejudice were still so present in the everyday world. Occasionally he was confused by her explanation or had to ask for clarification but she quickly became one of his closest confidantes; not simply because she answered his questions again and again without complaint but because she seemed to like to. She became his link to a world he would never truly know, and she played her role as ambassador perfectly.

~A~

 **Her Laugh**

The first time he made her laugh, it had been an accident. He'd made some offhanded remark about how Sam was a very good man and an extremely talented Avenger, but he simply could not seem to remember to pick up his VA flyers that he distributed whenever they were at a public event. Vision would find them everywhere: in the mornings when he came down for breakfast and coffee with the team, in the screening room when they tried to watch movies, even in the Quinjet when they were suiting up for missions. He hadn't thought his comment had been terribly funny-at least, he hadn't intentionally been trying to make it seem that way, but Wanda laughed anyway.

Her laugh caught him off guard yet again, because it revealed that side of her she was always careful to keep hidden; it dipped into her well of happiness that was so often dammed up. He felt like she'd afforded him a rare opportunity to look through the chinks in her armor at what lay beneath: a girl who smiled and laughed whenever she wasn't plagued by grief, guilt, fear, or some combination of the three.

It enticed him-and he became obsessed in coaxing it out again.

He went to Sam and Natasha for advice because they seemed the most adept at making people laugh. They both advised him to stay away from joke books and the Internet, an approach he took with some trepidation but nevertheless; as it was, what lines they gave him to start with worked well enough on their own. He was careful never to use two in a row or to place them too near each other in a conversation; they worked best when she wasn't expecting it, when he was able to catch her off guard and her laugh would bubble out before she could stop it.

Soon she stopped trying so hard to hide it from him.

Perhaps that was when he became obsessed with the idea of dual identity-that people could be one way in one setting and act completely differently in another setting. Perhaps that was when he started trying to make her come out of her shell, to break down the glass wall she'd built between her and the rest of her teammates after the battle of Sokovia; he'd seen the light behind her eyes and the happiness beneath her sorrow, and he was determined not to let it slip away.

~A~

' **His' Smile**

Wanda had a smile that was reserved solely for him. She'd never told him so, relaxing in the compound between missions or during the aftermath of one of their raids, but Sam insisted it was true.

He was trying to show Vision the ins and outs of the brand new Playstation 4 Tony had installed for them but the android's eyes kept flicking from the plastic controller in his hand to the girl on the window seat on the other side of the room, diligently reading a book. Almost as if she realized he was looking she looked up from her book and smiled at him before she went back to skimming the pages-and he went back to his impromptu tutorial.

"Were you even listening at all?" Sam huffed in fake annoyance. While Vision shrugged helplessly he followed the android's line of sight and suddenly said "Oh. Well, that makes sense then."

"What makes sense?" he asked, confused.

"Why you're not paying attention to me. I didn't realize she was there."

"Why would Miss Maximoff have anything to do with whether or not I am focusing on your tutorial?" He didn't know why he kept calling her Miss Maximoff in front of the other members of the team; when they were alone together he always called her Wanda, and perhaps on some subconscious level he wanted to keep the two separate. When he and her were together it was as though they created their own private infinity that no one else could penetrate; perhaps he simply didn't want to expose that to the rest of the world before he could figure out what it really meant himself.

Sam looked like he was going to say something and then thought better of it, saying instead "You know, she only smiles that way when you're around."

"I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about." Wanda smiled often, more and more as the months passed and her grief lessened. Whether or not he was present didn't affect that.

Sam shook his head and grinned a smile that Vision didn't quite trust. "You're really naive, aren't you?"

"I suppose you could say that. Why?"

He just laughed. "You'll understand when you're older." With that he went back to showing him how to install video games and he wouldn't change topics, no matter how many times Vision asked him to clarify that last statement.

Vision didn't stop thinking about it for days afterwards. Did she really reserve that smile only for him?

And what did it say about him if he really hoped Sam was right?

~A~

 **She Puts Up With His Cooking**

Vision had never been a brilliant cook. He had never even been a good one. Because he was made of synthetic tissue he'd never eaten anything in his life-and every time he tried to make dinner for the rest of the team, something invariably went wrong. Sometimes he overcooked the meat, other times he burned the potatoes, and occasionally he let the ice cream sit out too long and it turned into a congealing mess in the bottom of its plastic container.

Sam was personally working on a petition to have him removed from the kitchen rotation, effective immediately.

Natasha ate whatever he made with a smile on her face and then spit it out into her napkin as soon as she found a good opportunity.

But not Wanda. Wanda always ate what he cooked, no matter what color or consistency. Sometimes she could only manage one or two bites, but she would always smile at him and say he was making progress. Sometimes she would even give him pointers, and she always helped him clean up afterwards. When they were finished and whatever mess he'd managed to create had been properly disposed of they would sometimes sit around the kitchen table and talk for hours until Steve or Natasha came to break up the party and remind them that they had training bright and early the next morning.

She never seemed to mind-no matter how badly he screwed things up. It meant more to him than he would like to admit, even to himself.

~A~

 **Her Guitar**

Sometimes he would hear her working at her guitar for hours at a time, coaxing her fingers into the right shape and placing them in the right spot for chord after chord and song after song. The music flowed from her fingers; she never needed to worry about how the notes would land or how they would sound. Occasionally she would get stuck on a note, but she would simply drill it over and over again until she finally got it.

She played away her emotions: her fear, her pain, her sadness. And he would listen as her willing audience.

Occasionally she would invite him inside to watch her play and he would watch in willing rapture as her fingers glided over the strings, strong and perfect. He was always awed at the music she produced with so little effort, but at the same time he wasn't surprised at all; there were no limits to what she could do and what she could create. Humans were creative geniuses and Wanda was no exception.

~A~

 **She Can Quote All of** _ **Star Wars**_ **From Memory**

Episodes 4-7 that is. Not Episodes 1-3. She thinks they're terrible, just like everyone else on the team.

 _Star Wars_ was one of the first movies the team watched after the Battle of Sokovia because apparently it was an Avengers tradition and she and Vision couldn't be full members of the team until they marathoned all of them-which she did, and she quickly became hooked. He lost track of how many times she watched them in the months that followed, but soon she could quote them by memory all the way through. Natasha tested her once; she passed with flying colors.

Even for a human, she never ceased to amaze him.

~A~

 **She Doesn't Let Him Go Easy on Her During Training**

Just before their first round of team sparring, Steve had pulled him aside and told him "Go a little easier on Maximoff, okay? She's still coming to terms with her powers and I don't want anyone getting hurt." He'd agreed, of course; back then, they'd been under the impression that the Infinity Stone in his forehead made him invincible.

How wrong they were.

Wanda had been waiting for him, tying her brown hair back in a neat ponytail and eyes bright with excitement. "Ready to spar?" she asked, red magic appearing around her fingertips as though preparing for the match.

He wouldn't have been able to not smile at her, even if he'd tried. "Of course."

Natasha blew the whistle that signalled the start of the three minute matches; off they went. He shot a beam from the Mind Gem halfheartedly, giving Wanda plenty of time to dodge and counter it with a red shield. In return, she sent tendrils of red magic straight for his head; he had to duck to avoid them and they quickly disbanded into thin air. "You're going easy on me!"

"I don't want to hurt you accidentally." He didn't think he'd be able to live with himself if he did that.

She rolled her eyes. "You won't. I can take care of myself, you know."

He knew that very well, more than she was probably aware of. "I know you can, but I want to be sure."

"Everyone already treats me like a child as it is. I didn't think that needed to extend to the sparring ring?" Her tone was light and easy, but he could sense the underlying tension in her voice-and that, more than anything else, was what encouraged him to give her a chance. She'd been waiting for a chance to prove herself for who knew how long-and she was alert and ready, obviously not in any danger of distraction.

He smirked. "Perhaps not. Give me your best effort."

She'd responded in kind, using her magic to distract him, manipulate him, make him look in one direction while she attacked from another. He didn't mind; they vanished harmlessly before they could do any damage-and besides, he liked the way they felt: warm and inviting, meant for play and not for combat. In turn, he'd given it his best effort-not his full intensity, there was no need for that-but he gave her the same challenge she gave him. When time was called they were both smiling; she was slightly winded but quickly revived after a drink of water. "See?" she said triumphantly. "I told you I could handle it."

"I never said you couldn't." he replied. "You're capable of more than you know." They had to rotate to the next set of partners so he didn't have time to exchange any more playful banter-but he didn't miss the way Steve and Natasha were talking together on the other side of the room, glancing over at him and Wanda every so often; or the way Wanda looked back at him with an almost unreadable expression on her face.

Yes, she could most assuredly take care of herself-but that didn't mean there wasn't still some small part of him that still thought she needed protecting: from the world, from him, even, perhaps, from herself and her own abilities.

And as time wore on, she became more and more powerful, and he began to realize that her abilities would soon overtake his, his worries only increased. One mistake was all it would take for the public to fear her. Conversely, one mistake was all it would take to kill her. She was so powerful, so capable-and yet too often he thought people didn't look past her powers to the girl underneath. To them she was the Scarlet Witch and nothing more, while he knew that was the furthest thing from the truth.

~A~

 **She Believes in Happy Endings**

It didn't take long for Vision to realize that Wanda hated sad movies.

Of course, she had no problem watching all of the human interest stories Steve, Rhodey, and Sam all had soft spots for and she even sat through _The Fault in Our Stars_ per Sam's request. But after watching movies with endings that were downright depressing that ended with not a shred of hope in sight she often became very quiet and withdrawn, often spendings hours in her room.

It didn't take long for Vision to ask her why.

Her answer, when it came, was really quite simple: "There's always so much death and depression in the world as it is. Isn't the point of movies to make us feel better about our lives, not worse?" She thought for a moment and then added "Life...doesn't always give out happy endings. Not right away. For a while, when I was younger, I thought there was no such thing. When you spend day and night on the street, hungry and afraid year after year, you can lose hope pretty quickly. _I_ lost hope-but losing hope is dangerous, because as soon as you choose not to live and not to try you are lost. But I was lucky, because before my parents died they told us time and time again that we have a choice not to accept the future that life thrusts upon us; no matter where we are, in what circumstances, it's up to us to find our happy ending. That's why we volunteered for the experiments, you know; I thought it would give us glory, make us heroes. I thought Sokovia would sing our praises the way America sings Steve's; I thought we would get the happy ending we'd always dreamed of. But instead...it only led to more bad things." She trailed off, picking at the edge of her white bedspread; Vision didn't think she would speak again but she added "But it also led me here. I regret Pietro's death terribly, but the people here have become the closest thing to a family I've had in a very long time."

 _Family._ The word left a distraught longing in his heart that he couldn't quite name or describe. "So would you say you've found your happy ending?"

"No. I'm still searching for it. But this...where I am right now isn't so bad. And maybe it stays that way for a long time or maybe it all falls apart tomorrow...it doesn't matter. I'm always going to keep trying to find that happy ending." Something in her eyes flashed, and he could see the strength running through them more clearly than he ever had before. Even after all of this, after everything that had happened to her, she still refused to give up. It was...amazing. It was a power that only a few could claim. And that, of course, was why she was an Avenger.

He didn't realize that he loved her that night, of course, but her words spoke to something deep inside of him-to the part of him that wasn't exactly synthetic but not exactly human, the part that had wanted a family and desperately wanted to know love. For the first time, she made him think about his own happy ending-even if he wasn't exactly sure what that meant yet.

~A~

 **He Would Do Anything-Even Kill-For Her**

The first time he ever felt out of control, he felt that way because of her.

Vision had always known that he was powerful. He knew the gem in his head granted him nearly omnipotent abilities that made him far more powerful than anyone else on the team (except for Wanda perhaps, but that was beside the point), which was why he needed to use his abilities to protect those who needed it. Namely, humanity itself. Losing control was not an option, not when there were so many people counting on him. So many people could be hurt if he even had a momentary lapse in judgment.

If he had ever slept or had nightmares, he would have dreamt about it. His mind would have tortured him with dreams, over and over, of losing control and killing everyone he loved. Of watching Wanda die in his arms because of him, to watch the light leave her eyes and know that it was her fault.

The mission had gone to hell the second they got off the Quinjet and realized that the ex Hydra men they had come to apprehend were more than ready for them. They had protection against him; he couldn't phase through them and had to resort to more...bloodier methods of putting them down. But never killing. Steve said that was the number one rule on any mission: no killing unless there was no other choice.

He hadn't been watching Wanda as well as he should have. He should have known she could run into trouble; her abilities made her a formidable opponent but she wasn't trained in close hand to hand combat. But Natasha had been with her and he'd thought things would be fine.

He'd gone with Sam for half a second to investigate the third floor of the warehouse-and then he'd felt Wanda's pain. How he knew she needed his help remained a mystery even to him but he'd left Sam without a word of warning, phasing through three floors of drywall to see that Natasha was nowhere in sight and one of the men they were fighting had managed to pin Wanda to a wall and try to choke her. She was struggling, but his protections made it so she couldn't get a hex out-and she was losing fight fast.

He'd felt a moment of red hot fire that had surged through every vein in his body and every nerve in his head, blocking out all thought and rationality as he'd pulled him off of her with one movement, throwing him into the wall on the other side of the room. While the man groaned with pain he'd punched him in the face to keep him down-harder than he needed to, feeling a grim satisfaction as the man's blood rolled down his fingertips. He wanted to hurt him, wanted to _kill_ him for trying to hurt his teammate-who felt like so much more than that.

And he very nearly had. He would have, if Steve hadn't found him and snapped him out of it. As abruptly as it had come the rage monster vanished, leaving only Vision behind-but not before he'd broken every bone in her would-be assailant's hand.

He and Steve had looked at the man for a minute, where he lay writhing in pain almost pathetically. A deep chill of foreboding ran down Vision's spine at what could have happened, even when Steve just said "Remember, you have to control it." and went to make sure Wanda was all right.

Vision had to take serious measures to make sure the monster stayed where it was when he saw that welts had formed on the pale skin of her neck. She insisted they didn't hurt much but he knew she was lying-and he blamed himself. He hadn't been paying attention and he'd almost lost her. Next time he had to be ready. He couldn't afford to make the same mistake twice.

He realized she had power over him, perhaps more than he cared to admit. He didn't understand what was happening to him, when his feelings toward her had grown from mere friendship to something...deeper. Something he thought an android could never feel.

 _Tell me, Wanda: is this what love is like?_

But then again, how could she possibly feel the same way?

~A~

 **He Can't Seem to Stop Protecting Her**

He didn't tell anyone what he felt; no one talked about what had happened that night and eventually he was able to talk himself into forgetting it had happened at all. But that didn't change the fact that he looked after Wanda on all of their missions-sometimes she knew about it, more often she didn't. He honestly didn't know why he did it: was it to protect Wanda from outside forces, outside forces from her abilities, or her from herself?

He failed again in Lagos. He wasn't there; it hadn't been a high enough priority mission for him to be called along. If he could help it, Steve tried to keep the team small; there was less of a chance of collateral damage and after what happened in Sokovia, it was a valid concern.

"I'll be fine." Wanda told him before she left, giving him that smile he loved so much as she hugged him before she joined the others on the Quinjet. "It's only for a couple of days. Besides, it'll be nice to not have you breathing down my neck for a while."

"I will be waiting for you to return." he replied. "But I am sure you will be just fine."

That smile was the last one he'd gotten from her for a very long time.

~A~

It had taken a long time for the news about Lagos to sink in, even with the televisions on 24/7 and his synthetic brain working overtime to try and process this strange turn of events. The global community couldn't think Wanda was responsible for the explosion; heaven knew she'd saved more people on the ground than she'd killed in the bomb. But, just as he'd feared, people were frightened-and they needed a scapegoat.

Wanda hadn't been smiling when the team came back home, defeated. She'd sat on her bed alone for hours, staring at a wall or compulsively watching the same news broadcasts over and over again. He'd tried to tell her it wasn't healthy, but she wouldn't listen.

Eventually he'd just held her for hours, the way he had the night so long ago when they were both strangers and she was crying over the loss of her brother. She didn't cry today though; he could feel the fear choking her. His warrior, his genius, his muse, his _friend..._ And in that moment, he would have done anything to take away the pain and cleanse her of her fear.

He just wanted to keep her safe. He wanted the people of the world to know they didn't need to be frightened of her; he wanted them to see her the way he did. To see the Wanda he saw, the Wanda he was slowly falling for no matter how hard he tried to stop himself or how many times he tried to convince himself it wasn't right. That was why he kept her inside the Avengers facility like Mr. Stark had told him to; not for any power play but because she was his friend and he thought it was the best thing for her.

If he had known how it would dull the spark in her eyes, look at him distrustfully (as though she was scared he might hurt her if she tried to leave, even thought that was never his intention), and do whatever she could to avoid him, he wouldn't have done it. But as it was, he just wanted to protect her. And no matter what he did, he couldn't seem to stop. He was trying to look out for the entire world; that was what he told himself at least.

But more and more these days it felt like he was just trying to look out for her.

~A~

 **He Needs Her More Than She Needs Him**

For the longest time he had thought (rather pompously, he'll admit, but he'd thought it nonetheless) that he protected Wanda because she needed him. He protected her on missions, talked with her when they had a free night, and tried to do what little things he could to fill the hole in her heart her brother had left behind him.

But in all that time he never realized (or maybe he had, but just hadn't let himself remember it) that he needed her. She didn't need him at all, really; the others would have looked after her just as capably as he had. But he needed her to teach him how to be human; to teach him what it meant to have a friend and be a friend, to love and be loved, to find the happy ending no matter what. And now, he's all too painfully aware that it's too late. She's gone; Steve came back for her and broke her out of prison. She's free, which he's happy about of course-but she's also miles and miles away. He might never see her again.

The airport battle had been the last straw for him. As soon as he'd heard her cry out he had run to her aid, even though they were on opposite sides of the conflict. Holding her there, in the middle of the battlefield, exchanging apologies for mistakes they'd both made, he thought she had never looked more beautiful-even with the dirt on her face and her hair mussed. He had never...loved her more.

Because that's what it was. He's sure of it. Somehow, even though it should be impossibly, he has fallen completely and irrevocably in love with Wanda Maximoff.

And that love made him careless and foolish. He was paying attention to her, not to the others-and now Rhodey has to walk with a metal leg. He'd had to get away at that point; it was too much too quickly. He'd been thinking about her and he'd become distracted, and everyone else had paid the price.

How had this happened? How had it gotten to this point? How had he not known, from the first moment he chose to rescue her in Sokovia, that every conversation, every smile, every laugh, every...feeling...had been building towards this? How could he have been so naive? How could he have let it control him? How could he have disregarded his programming so blatantly and let love get in the way? He's not human; he's a machine, not man. He shouldn't be thinking this way, not about a human girl.

And yet...he can't help it. He can't stop thinking about her. Everything he sees brings up new memories: her favorite coffee mug, waiting in the cupboard as if just waiting for her to pick it up; her guitar, waiting for her to come and play it; the picture of her and Vision she keeps under her pencil box. They were in New York for a day sightseeing and she'd insisted Steve take their picture inside Central Park; she's kept it ever since. She looks...radiant in that picture. And he looks...happy. So naive; he has no idea that this will end him.

He will never know if she loves him the same way he will always love her. Maybe if he gives it time the feelings will go away-although he truly doubts that. Love doesn't just go away; it's not something you can dispose of like trash. You can push it into a corner, box it up, and forget about it, but it doesn't go away.

He can't forget about her, this dark haired and bright eyed impossibility who did what no one else should be able to do. And he loves her; with every day that passes and she doesn't come back, his belief is more and more affirmed.

Vision is surprised to find that the more he thinks about it, the more he doesn't regret it. The more he thinks about who he's hurt and what he's done...the more he realizes he wouldn't trade it, any of it, for a single second he and Wanda have spent together. Yes, it's ridiculous and improbable...but he loves her, and love is always worth it, like she told him so long ago.

She doesn't need him at all, but he needs her. He needs her light and her happiness, her darkness, her vulnerability, her strength, the way she tries desperately not to hurt others because she knows she's far more powerful than they can ever hope to be...her fear, her guilt when she makes mistakes. So like his own, connected by the Mind Stone that grants them shared abilities.

And yet, this bond they have is far more than just over a stone. There's something else to it, something more. Something rare, precious, and lovely.

He needs her-and he let her go. He realized too late he loved her. Now it's too late.

But he doesn't regret it. Not one single moment. In fact, if he could do it all again he would-no matter what the outcome: because that is love. And love is illogical and improbable, defying any laws of physics or the way the universe works, but it is worth it because he loved her-even for just a year. Far too short a time, but long enough nonetheless.

He loved her. And that has done more for him than he can possibly describe.

 **This is probably going to be a two shot at some point but I don't know exactly when I'll update it next; I still have a lot to write for** ** _Picking Up the Pieces_** **and I'm writing things on the side too.**

 **Review, follow, and favorite! Have a great day :)**


	2. II

**Finally got to Part 2!**

 **Disclaimer: See part 1**

 **Enjoy!**

~A~

 **His eyes**

The first thing Wanda noticed about him, when he came to her rescue despite the fact that it was the last thing she wanted, were his eyes.

She supposed she never really thought androids...had eyes. Well, that was stupid. Of course she knew they did-but she hadn't suspected they'd look so life like. She'd never expected them to have that speck of humanity inside of them, the same kind she'd seen in her parents, her brother, and everyone else she cared about.

Her brother…

Her musings dissipated around her like water flowing from her fingertips, reminding her that she had more on her mind than androids. Her brother was dead-the last connection to her past, the last thing she'd cared about, the last person she had left to love-and now she was alone. She was so alone in the world and she didn't have one person left to her. She had nothing to live for, really-just a lifetime of fear spent with people who didn't understand her powers and would always be frightened by her, whether they realized it or not.

She just wanted to fall and fall and fall and never look back, to feel her body dissipate into millions of tiny pieces as she met her brother for the final time. No grief, no pain, just...nothingness. A nice way to go out, all things considered.

But here was Vision, stopping her from falling. And she couldn't seem to stop staring.

She forced herself to tear her eyes away and let thoughts of her brother consume her once again-grief, loss, and the terrible feeling of what to do next. She had no one and nowhere to go, hardly even a hundred dollars to her name. She couldn't remember a time she'd felt so lost and alone, like she'd been set adrift in the ocean and had no idea where she would go next. And this wouldn't be happening to her if she'd just been able to fall-but the world wouldn't even let her do that.

In that moment, she hated him. She hated him so much he wanted to tear those blue eyes out of his head and crush them under her feet, to rip him apart piece by piece until there was nothing left and even then he wouldn't feel a shred of what she felt, even a quarter of her regret and loathing. How could he know anything about humanity? He was an android. Why couldn't he see that by saving her he was delivering her to an existence worse than death?

It was strange, really. Ever since she'd acquired her powers she'd become obsessed with people's fears-finding ways to use it to her advantage, realizing that would just a few simple hand gestures she could have even the strongest people in the world putty in her hands (and then proved it too)-but the only nightmare that had really come true was her own, because here she was without Pietro alone in a cruel, cruel world that seemed to be doing the best it could to tear her apart.

Vision touched down softly on the deck of the helicarrier and gently set her down on the hard steel, where she was immediately absorbed by a tide of people dressed in medical clothing. She wanted to brush them away, to say that she was fine and the last thing she needed was their ministrations, but she was borne away before she could do so on a current of regret and loss.

After a while, she realized it didn't matter. She just felt numb and cold, mourning the one thing she would never be able to replace.

She looked back once, just before the metal doors closed behind her. In hindsight she wouldn't really understand why she had done it-only that something inside of her had made her do it, instinctively. Perhaps a part of her that understood how it was all going to turn out, even before they'd had their first conversation.

Vision was watching her go. She was surprised to find that the fact that he was still there didn't really surprise her.

~A~

 **His Curiosity**

"Wanda, why do humans put milk in their cereal?"

Wanda looked up from the magazine she was skimming-something Natasha had left lying around because she didn't have anything better to do-to look at the team's 'youngest' member. For someone who was basically a walking computer he certainly had a lot of questions. He was constantly asking Steve and Natasha about human emotions and behavior whenever they watched TV as a team building exercise. But this was a new one-and the first time he'd asked her. She could have counted the number of conversations they'd ever had together on one hand. "I don't know, Vision. I suppose it's just something we do."

"It seems a waste. Cereals are perfectly healthy and nutritious without the addition of some form of dairy."

"I don't know. Maybe we just like the way it tastes. Besides, the world has such a problem with factory farming that I suppose the milk needs to go somewhere."

He nodded as if her weak explanation was perfectly acceptable and went back to his careful study of the kitchen stovetop. Why he was studying the kitchen stovetop was a mystery to her but she didn't ask-not after Sam asked him why he'd spent three hours examining the back of the television screen. _Everyone needs a hobby._

However, she noticed that he researched factory farming for most of the afternoon.

~A~

"Why does this coat cost seven hundred and forty dollars?"

The team was shopping at Saks Fifth Avenue because, as Natasha put it, they had an image to uphold and everyone dressed like street rat-and technically, Wanda was the only one who fit that description even if no one would let her admit it. She'd been able to find a few outfits she liked but tried to spend as little as she could, mostly because it felt strange to her letting other people pay for her outfits when she couldn't.

"It's a designer brand." she replied, examining it appraisingly. It was sleek and black-streamlined for maximum efficiency. She liked it immediately. "The materials are higher quality and you have to pay more for them."

"I can find at least three department stores nearby that can offer you the same coat at significantly lower prices."

She had to laugh. "I guess there are just some people out there who like to spend exorbitant amounts of money on clothing. It makes them feel like they're of a higher status to everyone else-which in turn makes them feel better about themselves. It's a strange way of thinking for me-I don't think clothing should dictate your self worth-but if you have the money…"

He nodded. "Does wearing expensive clothing help your sense of self worth?"

If she'd been drinking water, she was sure she would have choked on it. As it was, she looked around to be sure none of her other teammates were around (they weren't, thank God) before she responded. "No. Sometimes the people with the most money can be the cruelest and the people with next to nothing are the kindest people you'll ever meet." She was...fortunate enough to have seen both sides of the coin. "Now, if there was a nice shirt or something...every once in a while I might splurge. But realistically?"

"You should buy that coat. I believe it would look very nice on you."

She instantly reddened without really knowing why. "No thank you. That's very sweet, but I've already bought enough."

"I'm sure Natasha would be more than happy to buy it for you-"

"I'd rather not rely on her hospitality, Vision. The team has already given me enough as it is." A home, a job, a second chance...even the closest thing to a family she'd had in twelve years. She owed them everything-and she worried that any day it could come crashing down around her. She was desperate not to upset anyone, not when they'd already done more than she could possibly repay.

"I could buy it for you." He of course never needed to buy anything, considering he had the handy ability to change his appearance whenever he felt like it.

"You don't need to do that-"

"It would be my greatest pleasure, Miss Maximoff." There was no hint of grudgingness in his voice, nothing that told her he was doing it only out of an obligatory sense of duty. She didn't quite know what to make of it.

Then again, when it came to Vision she always had a lot of questions.

"If you're very sure it's no trouble…"

"Of course it's not. We're teammates, right? Don't teammates do nice things for each other?"

She couldn't help smiling as she grabbed the coat in question, even though she was blushing so hard she hoped desperately Natasha wasn't around. "Yes Vision. I suppose they do. Thank you."

He was silent for a second, as if searching his mental databases of common phrases humans said. "Don't mention it."

~A~

Once the rest of the team realized that Wanda didn't mind answering Vision's many questions, they began sending him her way whenever he was confused-which happened a lot. At first it was disorienting, trying to come up with explanations for emotions and behaviors that couldn't be found on a web page-but she soon found herself warming to the challenge. Vision was a rapid learner and soaked in everything she said to him as though it was the most important thing he'd heard all day and each new discovery he made seemed to fill him with unspeakable wonder and a new appreciations for humanity. He managed to find ways to get her excited too, even about things as small as a boy receiving a new puppy or two lovers holding hands for the first time.

Understandably, love confused him more than anything else-how someone could have feelings for someone else that defied convention, logic, and common sense. One night, the team watched a movie about a pair of young lovers who eventually eloped to Brazil, leaving behind their family, friends, and university degrees. As soon as the credits began to roll he asked her "Why would they do that?"

"Do what?" It was late and she was tired; she had to dig her fingernails into the her palm to keep herself alert.

"They had very good lives-loving families, a promising future-and they threw it all away simply so they could be...together. It's simply illogical."

"I suppose...not everything humans do is logical. Sometimes humans just want to do something spontaneous-something that will make them happy. The desire to be happy overrules almost everything else-convention, rules, even society itself. Not everything we do can be easily explained." Not like him-everything he did had a purpose, and she couldn't imagine him doing anything spontaneous even if his life depended on it.

Just then Sam practically bolted through the doorway with no warning, startling her so badly she almost fell off the couch. "Ready for training?"

She rolled her eyes. "Was that _really_ necessary?" But she got up good naturedly and followed him outside, falling into an easy conversation about a movie they'd watched a few nights ago that they both mutually hated. It took her a few minutes to realize Vision wasn't with them; he was still staring at the blank screen of the television, seemingly lost in thought-as though trying to quantify what couldn't be reasoned out.

~A~

 **His Innocence**

Growing up on the streets of Sokovia-a rough, harsh world where there was never enough food or places to get away from the subzero winters-Wanda felt as though she was never able to have a 'normal' childhood. She'd never had a pet-her parents had always said they would get a dog or a cat when the twins were older, but they died before that could happen. She'd never had a father to teach her how to drive. She'd never had a mother to teach her how to shave her legs or put on makeup. She'd learned from a very young age that the world was a cruel place where nightmares came true just as often as dreams did and she had to look out for herself if she wanted to stay alive.

That wasn't how Vision thought.

In many ways, he was really the youngest member on the team-he lacked the weary edge that the other members had acquired through years of being slowly worn down but never quite broken. He saw beauty in the little things-when they were out on the town to go grocery shopping or sightsee he would often stop her to point out an especially beautiful flower or a golden sunset. He would stop outside of playgrounds to watch small children at play, squealing and laughing as they swung from the swings or raced down the slides. He was fascinated by magic shows-he always researched the sleights of hand used to make a rabbit appear out of a hat or one handkerchief turn into many, but he always looked slightly fascinated by them too. He would buy little presents for members of the team for silly reasons-the sky was especially blue, their mission had gone especially well, or there had been a particularly interesting fight during sparring. Everything surprised him-and he seemed to genuinely love life, more so than anyone else she knew.

So much so that she slowly found herself being taken up in his fantasies too. She stopped more often to smell the flowers and spent hours at night watching the sun set over the Base in a blaze of pink and yellow. She couldn't help smiling every time she heard a child laugh-and soon she found that she laughed more easily and more often. She noticed random acts of kindness she would never have noticed without him-the man who held the door open for the woman behind him, the child on the street who gave two crumpled dollar bills to a homeless man sitting in the corner of the subway station, the couple kissing under the shadowed overhang of the Met. They served as reminders to her that the world wasn't all death, destruction, and poverty. There was still light in it, light the Avengers were fighting to protect.

This realization helped her through Pietro's death, more so than the grief counselors Sam recommended or the pamphlets Natasha dumped on her bed.

Even though he was unbearably naive, never having felt betrayal, grief, or soul crushing loneliness, she found his presence strangely comforting. He was the kindest, gentlest person she'd ever met-and he saw the best in everything and everyone, even her. Somehow, he managed to convince her that she wasn't the broken wreck of a person she'd always thought she was-repairing her broken pieces one sunset at a time and showing her that despite all the greed, power grabbing, hurt, and betrayal humanity wasn't really lost after all.

 **~A~**

 **He Reads the Encyclopedia**

Rhodey figured it out first when he walked into the den with a pizza one night and saw Vision perched on the edge of the couch, reading a book that was as thick as the coffee table. "Are you reading the _encyclopedia?"_

Vision nodded absently, flipping the page unperturbed. "It's a fascinating read." The other members of the team exchanged looks; fascinating wasn't exactly the word most of them would have chosen to describe the encyclopedia but to each his own, Wanda supposed. She assumed he would grow bored of it as he went on, the way everyone else did when they as a child invariably decided that it would be a good idea to read it.

But he didn't. He read it whenever he had spare time-at the breakfast table, between sparring matches, even in the Quinjet on the way back from a mission. It wasn't long before he finished it-and then he went back to the beginning to start all over again.

"Don't you ever get bored of that?" she asked him one day, when he was on his third or fourth reread. "I mean, it doesn't really have a plot or characters does it?"

"It's not...interesting, perhaps, in the way the rest of you perceive interesting." he replied, those piercing blue eyes looking up at her. "Yes, it doesn't have a plot or characters-but it is very informative. And until I feel I understand humanity better, I would rather learn hard facts than read a fictional book where the plot's events are constantly calling human judgment into question."

"Does it help-learning about…" She glanced at the page over his shoulder. "...zebra mussels?"

"Yes, I believe it does. Perhaps we could read something together sometimes? Then if I have questions you can explain things to me."

She grinned. "I'd like that-only I'd like to pick out the books. I'm sure the encyclopedia is very informative, but I'm sure it would put me to sleep."

 **~A~**

 **His Blunt Honesty**

Being what he was-a nearly omnipotent android with an incredibly advanced brain but an extreme lack of understanding when it came to abstract concepts-Vision had a nearly nonexistent filter when it came to what he said. Apparently, when he was still Jarvis, Tony had programmed him to be brutally honest with him-and that old program had carried over into his new body. This led to many interesting (and usually funny) misunderstandings-lots of jokes went completely over his head and he found irony in a few things that weren't exactly meant to be funny.

Tony threw his first big party to celebrate the New Avengers only a couple of months after the Battle of Sokovia. It was a black tie event, which Wanda soon learned meant fancy clothes-which meant going clothes shopping in some of the most expensive stores on Fifth Avenue because the billionaire would settle for nothing less from superheroes. To give them a head start, he gave Natasha a credit card and told her to max it out with the most expensive things they could find.

Sam, Rhodey, and Natasha were more than happy to comply, heading straight for the priciest items on the shelves. Steve was more reserved, browsing through the clearance racks first-at least until Natasha told him in no uncertain terms she wouldn't buy him anything that was under seven hundred dollars. Wanda was somewhere in the middle, trying to adopt the carefree attitude the others had of throwing money around like it was an unlimited commodity but still wincing every time she looked at a price tag. And Vision spent his time looking through men's fashion magazines, looking for an outfit he would adopt for the night of the party.

Finally everyone had found their outfits. Wanda had chosen a black dress she was very proud of, with small sleeves and a hemline that hit just above her knees-but Natasha took one look at it and shook her head. "This is one of _Tony's_ parties, sweetheart. I think you're required by law to show some cleavage." She shot the boys a withering look, warning them to stay put, and dragged her back among the clothing racks.

She bypassed the first few rows of dresses they passed, looking from Wanda to the products for sale and back again-so quickly Wanda wondered how she didn't get whiplash-before she finally pulled out a tight red number studded with rhinestones Wanda wouldn't have felt comfortable wearing even in her wildest daydreams. "Try this on."

"Are you sure? I don't think that's such a good idea-"

"Just trust me. Every girl should be able to feel like a woman at least once in her lifetime-and you certainly deserve something nice. You'll look smashing-and I think I know women's fashion better than you do." So Wanda reluctantly tried the dress on, trying to hide the fact that she felt like she'd be sick as soon as she looked in the mirror. She looked so...different-all of her curves were accentuated, most of her thighs were bare, and the neckline plunged even more than normal. She wouldn't wear an outfit like this in private-much less to a fancy party.

She dragged her feet as she went back to where Natasha was waiting. As soon as the Russian spy looked up and saw her, she flashed a quick thumbs up. "That's the one." And just like that, Wanda knew she didn't have a say in the matter.

Of course, the boys chose that moment to come walking around the corner laughing and talking-and they broke off immediately as soon as they saw her. She bit her lip so hard she tasted blood, wishing she could simply disappear. This wasn't who she was-and she certainly wasn't used to people looking at her like she was anything special.

Then again, she'd never worn a dress like that before. In fact, she still couldn't believe she was. _Why did I let Natasha talk me into this again?_

"You look beautiful, Wanda." Vision said, breaking the sudden silence. "Very beautiful."

If it was anyone else, she would probably have shaken off their opinion as something said on instinct, just to be nice-but because it was Vision, who didn't know how to play games or manipulate emotions the way so many others did skillfully, she couldn't help smiling. "Thank you, Vizh."

And in spite of all her doubts, she found herself wearing that red dress with the confidence needed to wear it-for that party and all the parties after it.

~A~

 **He's Won Every Game of Chess He's Ever Played**

And he's played seventy seven games, according to his synthetic cerebrum that apparently measures such things.

At first they tried to beat him-Steve played a couple of games and gave up, as did Wanda (she didn't see a point in trying when her opponent was perhaps the living embodiment of a computer. Sam, Rhodey, and Natasha lasted a little longer. Rhodey conceded defeat after twelve games, Natasha after twenty seven, and Sam (finally) after a whopping thirty five, all spread out over seven or eight months. After that, he was declared the team champion and no one played chess anymore-at least, not to win.

Tony didn't believe them at first-he thought they were all just terrible at chess. So of course-because God forbid _Tony Stark_ should shrink from a good challenge-he came over one day to show everyone else how it was done. What started as a couple of games stretched into a night long marathon, where the other members of the team had to constantly ferry him cups of fresh coffee as he considered each new move-with more and more exhaustion as the night wore on. It didn't matter, really-Vision won every single one.

Tony conceded at dawn and Vision never had to defend his title again.

~A~

 **He's a Truly Awful Chef, but He Tries**

The first time Vision came up on the team cooking schedule, he became almost inappropriately excited-because he'd never cooked anything in his life and he was determined to rise to the occasion (like father, like son, as Natasha would say-just before she rolled her eyes). He decided to start with something easy-grilled cheese sandwiches. Somehow, he ended up not only using the wrong kind of cheese but also completely burning the sandwiches-bread and all. None of it was salvageable and they ended up ordering pizza instead.

Looking back on it, Wanda realized that should have been their first omen. They should have taken him off the schedule right away-but instead they decided to give him a second chance.

For his second attempt at the culinary arts, he made spaghetti and meatballs. His spaghetti was watery and overcooked and his meatballs had the consistency of melted tar. Natasha took one bite and refused to eat any more. The others tried to be more accommodating and got through a few more bites before they too were forced to stop-and Rhodey, Sam, and Wanda were floored by an awful case of food poisoning the next morning. Only the Super Soldier Serum running in Steve's veins saved them from the same fate. Natasha just spent the rest of the day sniggering "I told you so." in between cleaning up vomit.

Vision had found he enjoyed cooking-no matter how terrible he was at it-so he was kept on the cooking schedule just for his pride. However, it became an unspoken agreement between the team that the others ate whatever he made at their own risk-knowing full well it might make them ill. While they looked over his food appreciatively and maybe took a bite or two to taste test, they invariably ordered takeout instead.

Wanda tried. She really did. No matter how awful his food looked or how much it looked like it was going to turn her stomach, she ate it anyway-as much of it as she could within reason, that is. Milkshakes that looked moldy, pancakes that were so burnt they were nearly black, meatloaf that was falling apart-and not in a good way...she tried it all, offering pointers whenever she could. It seemed that Vision just wasn't made for the culinary arts. And that was just fine-no one should be able to do _everything,_ not even an omnipotent android. For his part, Vision didn't mind; he just chuckled at every cooking attempt that went horribly wrong and got up again the next day determined to try again-and butcher a new food while he was at it.

She admired the way he never became ruffled or lost his cool-and how he was willing to do something because he liked doing it, not because he was good at it. He put one hundred percent effort into every dish he made, even if it came out crooked, lopsided, or smelling like tree mold-and that, in her opinion was something to be proud of. And she supposed she did like his cooking in her own way, even more than she liked Natasha's perfectly crafted creme brulee. Each dish Vision made was created with a genuine passion, which was more than she could say for anyone else (including herself), who just cooked because they had to.

Just so long as she didn't have to finish it.

~A~

 **That Look He Gets When He's Trying to Understand Human Emotions**

Wanda often liked to say she was an artist-not a very good one, but she was known to take an old sketchbook out from time to time and doodle the first thing that popped into her head. She was used to analyzing faces: how the tilt of a pair of eyebrows could denote fear or anger, how the lines in a forehead could symbolize inner anxiety. The way Natasha always cocked one eyebrow, like she was always confident she'd come out of life on top. Sam's effervescent and bubbly smile that hid the sadness underneath. Steven's deliberately calming nature that seemed to calm everyone except himself.

And then there was Vision's 'humanity look', as she liked to call it. It always looked the same; his eyebrows would tilt just slightly in confusion, his eyes would narrow as he called upon his mental databases, and his mouth would purse just slightly at the corners in minute concentration-like he was doing everything in his power to understand his new reality. It was an adorable look, really-and as the days wore on she began to see it more and more because she happened to be more in tune with it. It helped her understand when he was confused, typically-sometimes he would take off on a tangency of self reliance and would refuse to ask clarifying questions, even if he really needed them.

And somehow, that just made him more endearing.

She drew him sometimes, in the comfort and privacy of her room (all the furniture was from IKEA; she and Steve had a hell of a bonding session trying to put it all together without strangling each other in the process), starting from the curve of his temple and ending at the set of his jaw, trying to capture the way his eyes shone with intelligence or how his very aura seemed to emit compassion. She filled page upon page in her sketchbook with him-and then hid that sketchbook every morning so no one would ask awkward questions. She wondered how an _android,_ made of vibranium and synthetic tissue, could look so...real. And even attractive, in his own way.

Whenever she saw that look, she always tried to explain things in a way that (hopefully) made it seem like she wasn't explaining it at all so he wouldn't feel embarrassed. She knew he appreciated it; even though he never said anything explicitly, because that wasn't his way, he always gave her little smiles or nods of acknowledgment-another inside joke held between them that the others couldn't quite figure out, no matter how hard they tried. And eventually, they realized they didn't want to.

~A~

 **He's Always Up at 2 in the Morning**

The first time she had nightmares he calmed her with tea. And that wasn't the last time.

At first the nightmares came thick and fast-every day or two-and she would wake every night like clockwork with hot tears streaming down her face and legs aching where she'd subconsciously twisted them in her blankets. She wouldn't be able to go back to sleep, terrified that if she did she would again see Pietro's face dancing across her eyelids. And she knew that it would break her, every single time.

Vision was always waiting for her when she finally dragged herself out of bed in a sorry state, hair matted and blanket wrapped around her shoulders. Invariably, he always made her tea or warm milk; sometimes they talked, sometimes they didn't. If she wanted to rant, he would listen; on the worst nights, the ones where her throat still ached from crying, he would let her lean against his shoulder until she felt comforted enough to drink something. Sometimes they read books together and sometimes they watched the home shopping network (they tried to order a couple things once, mostly as jokes, until Steve found out and prohibited impulse buying after receiving the 'Perfect Hamburger Flipper'). Sometimes they didn't watch anything-just sat in a darkened room and stared at the empty television screen until the sky outside turned light or she fell asleep in his lap or both. Somehow there was never anything awkward between them; she knew he would keep her secrets and he knew she would keep his. They were the closest of companions and the best of friends; they owned the nights, free from judgement and societal norms.

And she knew she wasn't the only one he'd helped after an especially hard night-every so often, on the good nights, she would sometimes wake up in the morning to see an empty mug in the sink or someone asleep on the couch-victim to the android's careful minstrations. But for the most part, the mornings were theirs.

She never thought she'd find someone who would be able to chase the nightmares away like Pietro had done so effortlessly, banishing even the worst with a soft lullaby and a few kind words. Vision's way was different, to be sure-but she found he was able to comfort her as effectively as her brother ever had.

When the morning did come she never thanked him, even though he prevented her from dreading closing her eyes and letting the nightmares take her. It didn't seem right, somehow-the nightmares, late night movies, and warm tea belonged to the nights, and nothing seemed quite as real in the morning light. And somehow, she knew that she didn't need to. Somehow, she got the feeling he already knew how much he did for her-and he didn't mind at all.

~A~

 **He Doubts His Own Humanity-Even Though He Acts More Human than Most of the Other People She Knows**

Even as the months slipped past-three, six, nine-Vision never counted himself as part of the team. Sure, he gave interviews, signed autographs, and took group pictures with his usual easygoing smile-but Wanda knew he didn't really feel like he belonged. He always hung back, spoke quietly, and tended to draw as little attention to himself as possible.

In fact, she only ever felt like she really got to know him-the real him-when they were alone, reading or going for walks or just staying up late in the night talking about anything and everything. Only then did he ever let his guard down and his easy smile came more readily. Once she even asked him why-why he was so hesitant to mark himself as a part of the group, even though everyone knew he was a valued member of the team.

He just smiled at her almost sadly. "I'm not human, Wanda. I do not think and feel the way you and the others do. I did not...grow up, per say. Yes, I am an Avenger-but I don't believe the world will ever see me as more than that, because there is nothing else to me. I am here to protect humanity, not to interact with it." He said it matter of factly, like it didn't matter to him-though she knew it had to, far more than he was letting on. It was perhaps one of the saddest declarations Wanda had ever heard because she knew it was so completely and totally false.

"Why do you say that?" she asked, bringing her knees up to her chest so she could have a better look at both Vision and the toenails she was meticulously painting a sullen shade of black. "Yes, you're made out of vibranium and synthetic tissue-but does that really mean you're not human?" She shook her head. "Vizh, I haven't lived very long but I spent most of the last decade living on the streets. I've seen...people in a light most don't usually see them. I've seen the good, the bad, and the downright ugly. I've seen people be kind or mean, tender or cruel. And...from what I've seen, a lot of them fall into the latter categories. I don't know why-maybe they just don't care, or maybe the world has hurt them so many times they simply don't know how to behave otherwise. But whatever the reason, they don't deserve to be called humanity-because if that's all humanity is, what is there worth fighting for?

"But Vizh, you're a different story. You're so kind, so good...why does it matter that you're synthetic? Does flesh really make humanity? I don't think so-I believe humanity is what you have inside of you, the actions you make and the things you feel. And if that's true, you're just as human as any of us. You are just as capable as anyone else here of happiness and sadness, pain and passion. Maybe you haven't experienced all of those emotions yet, but you're willing to try-and I know that someday you will. You want to understand. You're not afraid of being hurt. You own up to your mistakes and your misunderstandings. You _care._ You're one of the best specimens of humanity I've seen in a long time-and don't let anyone, especially yourself, tell you otherwise." She looked away, suddenly embarrassed as she capped the polish and suddenly wishing she wouldn't have spoken-not something so deep, so personal, and so utterly the truth. "An android with no humanity would never have saved me from Sokovia when everything seemed lost or soothed my nightmares for months."

Vision was silent for a very long time and she bit her lip, wondering if she had said something wrong. Even after all this time, there were still things about him she didn't understand-little pieces of him she had yet to discover. Had she said something wrong? Had she touched a nerve she should have left alone?

Yet when he looked up at her again he was smiling-a genuine smile, the kind that seemed to come from deep inside rather than in response to a joke that was only slightly funny. "Thank you, Wanda." he said, brushing a fingertip across her hand.

That was all. They never said anything else about the matter and they certainly never brought up her impromptu little speech. But even so, things began to change: he no longer bowed out of the spotlight when it came to group interviews and he talked more freely with other members of the team-and the others quickly began to notice it.

"What did you do to him?" Sam asked with a grin as he and Wanda watched the android do the dishes with Rhodey. They were talking about NASCAR, of all things. She didn't know how much Vizh knew about the subject, but they certainly seemed to be having a good time.

"I don't know what you're talking about." she replied, trying her best to look confused. "What do you mean?"

"Oh, don't give me that. He's been acting differently, you know? Less...robot like."

She just smiled. "He's an android, Sam-but that doesn't mean he's not human." With that she left, leaving him to mull over her words in silence.

Sooner or later, everyone would realize it. It would take time, but one day everyone would see him the way she did-not as an android but as a person with feelings, flaws, and a well developed character. And with each day, week, and month that passed, she knew the rest of the team found an even greater acceptance.

~A~

 **He's Constantly Watching Over Her**

Wanda's mother had always told her she had a guardian angel who was always looking after her and would one day lead her to the Eternal Kingdom when her time on the earthly plane was done-but Wanda supposed she had never really believed it. If she really had an angel looking after her, why would she be orphaned, alone, and living on the streets? Why would she have made the mistake of joining HYDRA, subjecting herself to torture after torture because of the lies of a neo Nazi (and her own foolish desire to rise above her circumstances)? She had Pietro, but that was different. He was her brother-and after Sokovia fell from the sky, she didn't even have him.

Then she found Vision. And while he may not have had a halo or wings, he certainly tried his best to look after her.

For the first few weeks after the battle of Sokovia he followed her around constantly until she just wished he would go away because he reminded her far too much of memories she was trying her best to leave buried. But he never left-he was always there when she went to get coffee, when she went to the screening room to watch a movie, or when she sat out in the back gardens trying to draw the blue, blue sky. In fact, the only time he didn't seem to be following her was when she locked herself in her bedroom to sleep at nights-and even then she sometimes found herself wondering if he ever decided to check on her at ungodly hours.

"He just won't go away." she complained to Laura one night, two weeks after he'd nearly sabotaged their third mission because she'd gotten shot in the arm and he'd abandoned his post to make sure she really was all right. They were making chicken quesadillas for the rest of the family; from the window over the kitchen sink, she could see Clint playing softball with his kids. It made her feel a strange kind of ache; Clint was the happiest she'd ever seen him up here, surrounded by the people he loved without a care in the world. It reminded her of a world she could have had, if Tony Stark had been a different man and made his fortune in something other than weapons and missiles.

Laura grinned. "It sounds like he cares about you."

"I'm sure it qualifies as stalker like behaviour."

"He's just worried about you."

"I know-but there are other people on the team besides me. He never spends time with them-at least, he doesn't follow them around like he's on suicide watch."

Laura's smile vanished as she chopped up some more chicken. "Is he?"

It took a minute for her words to sink in before she hurriedly responded "No, of course not. For the first day or so...maybe, I don't know...but not now." There were times when she'd felt so depressed she could barely think straight, but after Sokovia had fallen she'd never seriously considered taking her own life. If nothing else, Pietro had died too soon and it was her responsibility to live the rest of her life as fully and completely as she could-for the both of them. "I don't think that's it."

Laura fired up the quesadilla maker, arranging chicken and shredded cheddar cheese onto a fresh tortilla. Instantly tantalizing aromas began to waft up from the food and make her mouth water. "I think that maybe, when he chose to save you, he made a conscious choice that you and your well being matter to him. And, since he's probably not well versed in human emotions, he believes this is the only way to do it-by watching over you whenever he can to ensure you're safe and cared for. I wouldn't worry about it, Wanda-I'm sure he doesn't mean to make you uncomfortable. It's just an act of love, born out of great tenderness."

She sighed. He was like a puppy sometimes-you just couldn't stay angry with him no matter how hard you tried because he didn't know any better and was just trying his best. "I know-but he nearly sabotaged the entire mission!"

"You can talk to him about it-although personally, I think it's sweet. What girl doesn't want a guy who will drop everything just because she's in pain?"

"I guess I'm just the exception." But after that, it didn't bother Wanda so much-and as the months passed, his extreme overprotectiveness slowly began to lessen. In a way, she found it almost endearing-especially when Steve had a long talk with him about mission behaviour, even in the case of medical emergencies. Their captain also had the idea of pairing them up whenever possible-not only did their powers complement each other but Vision could protect her while still completing their mission objectives. And Wanda would be the first to admit that her hand to hand combat skills could use a little work, so it worked out well for them both.

Yes, he acted like a puppy sometimes-but he was _her_ puppy and her responsibility. She looked out for him just as much as he did for her-though not because she worried he would get shot or stabbed. She worried about his too trusting nature and his desire to believe the best about people no matter what; she wanted to protect him from the hard world as much as she could, but failing that she would do her best to ensure he never felt betrayal or got hurt emotionally.

They worked well together. They were an unstoppable team. And she was just fine with that-as long as he didn't try _too_ hard to be her prince in shining armor.

~A~

 **He Inexplicably Understands Her Better than Anyone Else**

When she just wanted to die, he knew to rescue her.

Whenever she got so frustrated in training she wanted to walk way, he was the one who convinced her to stay and try again until she eventually succeeded.

When she woke screaming from nightmares, he knew just what to say-and when to stay silent-to make her feel better.

When he listened to her play guitar, he knew to give her his full attention.

When the panic attacks came, he was the only one she allowed to come near her because he was the only one she wasn't afraid of hurting.

He always understood the best way to take care of her, even when she didn't understand it herself. And he would follow through, whatever it took to make her feel better.

When she lost control in Lagos, when the dust had settled and everyone reassured her half a dozen times each that it wasn't her fault but the people they passed on the streets still shot her disapproving, distrustful glances, he was, instinctively, the first one he called-locking herself into a cabin on the Quinjet and dialling his number so fast her fingers shook. He remained silent when she talked about it, talked about how she'd just killed dozens of innocents. How she'd thought she was better than that. How she'd thought she could be something more than just a monster-but here she was, with the blood of innocent men, women, and even children caking her hands. He'd comforted her; in his calm and reassuring voice, he'd reaffirmed what everyone else said-that she _wasn't_ a monster and Crossbones had the victim's blood on his hands, not her. But somehow, coming from him it mattered more. It helped her breathe a little bit easier, to know that he didn't hate her (she didn't think she could have borne that on top of everything else) even though the rest of the world did.

When she came home, so exhausted she could barely stand because the nightmares had been so bad the night before she'd brewed pot after pot of coffee to keep herself awake-and she wasn't the only one-he knew to hold her for hours while she cried, crying out all of her fear, doubt, and desperation until she felt so numb she couldn't even feel the way her chest was aching from her sobs. And he still held her after that, until she fell asleep in his lap and awoke to find herself back in her own bed tucked in like a toddler. There was a plate of chocolate chip cookies on the nightstand, only slightly burnt around the edges, a cold glass of milk, and a note that read _Batch 14._ She laughed so hard she ended up crying again. Only he could make her laugh during one of the worst moments of her entire life. Only he knew her well enough.

And when the panic attacks came later that week, as she'd known they would, he knew what kind of pizza to order (pepperoni with extra basil) and what movie to sync ( _Star Wars Episode IV: A New Hope;_ she loved _The Force Awakens_ but when she was already upset the nostalgia was likely to do her in completely _)_ before she even had to tell him. He helped her through everything-interviews, terrible newscasts and editorials, nightmares, and more panic attacks than she could count. He never left and he never gave up.

She'd never told him one of her favorite comfort foods was straight up whipped cream on a plate. She'd never told him that she read romantic novels when she was feeling out of control and needed to calm down. She'd never told him that a four hour conversation with Clint over Skype could help her more than an entire bottle of antidepressants.

Inexplicably, he just knew.

~A~

 **He Really, Really Tries To Do the Right Thing**

She knew he did it with the best of intentions. Really, she did. But that still didn't change the betrayal she felt when she realized that he was actually following Tony Stark's orders and keeping her prisoner in her own house.

 _What do you want?_ she'd asked him, wondering for the first time where his loyalties lay. She knew he was Tony's creation of course, but that he'd always been his own person. He had his own priorities, and somehow she didn't feel like she was betraying her brother's memory by liking him. But then something like this happened-it didn't surprise her that Tony would want her locked up, because God forbid she blew up half the grocery store getting paprika and he had to fill out some paperwork. To have Vision go along with it...to willingly incarcerate her, even though he knew the last thing she wanted was to remain like a princess locked in her tower and unable to interact with the increasingly patronizing world around her…

 _For the world to see you as I do._

She'd seen the conflict in his eyes: trying to reconcile the desire to protect people with that age old desire to protect her. He'd done what he could; he couldn't be expected to know any better.

And yet she still locked herself in her room and refused to come out. Three times a day she would go down to the kitchen to make breakfast, lunch, and dinner-or he would bring them up to her-but other than that she stayed where she was, reading, watching television, and letting her own guilt slowly eat her alive.

Vision never interfered. For the first time, she almost wished he would. But she wouldn't talk to him so he wouldn't talk to her, probably because he wanted to give her space in case she really did hate him.

She didn't hate him. She was just confused, scared, and feeling more childlike than she had in years. She wanted to help Steve, from what news filtered in from the outside world (he and Sam were fugitives from the law. Because of course they were. Why not?) but she didn't want to risk hurting Vision. She knew if worse came to worst she could probably sneak out-but she didn't want to risk ruining whatever relationship they had.

He was just trying to do the right thing. He was trying to protect the world and, loathe as he was to admit it, trying to protect her.

That didn't stop her from picking Clint over him.

And yet her heart broke when she watched him go crashing down through layer upon layer of reinforced steel, though she knew it wouldn't hurt him. Her best friend, her closest confidante, the person who was more than either of those things and yet both of them at the same time…

But Clint and Steve needed her too.

 _I'm sorry. I'm so sorry._

He had done what he saw as the right thing. And now it was her turn to make the same choice. _Don't you see? I had to. You want to protect me-but I want to protect them. And they need me, now more than ever. But I'm sorry, I really am. And...I hope one day you can forgive me._

 _I know you were only doing the right thing._

~A~

 **She Needs Him More Than He Needs Her**

She loves him.

She couldn't see it before-or maybe she always could but was just too afraid to admit it. Maybe she thought it was too ridiculous, that an android and a human couldn't possibly be in love. Maybe there hadn't been time to think about it, in between saving the world and grieving her brother and settling into her new home. But now she knows it-and she's more confident about it than she's been about anything else in a very long time. She loves him-not like the childish crushes she had on actors and cute boys when she was younger, but real love-the kind that keeps you up at night and feel so dangerous, real, and good that you can't believe it really exists.

He has captured her heart, completely and totally, without even realizing it.

She loves him.

 _She loves him._

It's a terrifying thought-especially because she knows he will never love her back, at least not the way she loves him. How can he? He's an android with the power to phase through walls and adjust his density-what need does he have for someone like her, someone who's so broken it will take years to put together all the pieces? Someone who maybe can't be loved, after everything she's done-though Scott, Natasha, Steve, Sam, Bucky, and Clint would be happy to tell her otherwise.

She wishes they would tell her that she's lying about this too. But they don't; they're too smart for that.

Natasha says she's always known it, ever since the Battle of Sokovia. Steve gives her a sad smile-not because he doesn't believe her but because Vision is miles away and she'll probably never see him again. Clint offers what advice he can about dating, knowing that she really hasn't ever dated before. Bucky, Scott, and Sam just offer her congratulations (Sam asks how she finally figured it out) and wish her good luck because apparently love is a bitch. Worth it, but still a bitch. Which doesn't really make her any more confident.

She can remember the exact moment she realized she loved him-during the airport battle, when she was holding up the tower he knocked over and Rhodey hit her with those sonic air blasts that had felt like her brain was tearing itself apart. She'd let the tower fall-briefly hoping Steve and Bucky had been fast enough-and fallen to the ground, screaming in pain because it hurt it hurt it _hurt..._ And then he was there, picking her up off the hard ground and holding her close and suddenly everything seemed just a little bit better even though things were falling apart at the seams. Her saviour-again and again when she didn't deserve to be saved.

" _I'm sorry."_

" _I'm sorry too."_

It was almost frightening how much she wanted to kiss him at that moment. He _didn't_ hate her for what she'd done; he never had. And even though the moment was inappropriate and it was wholly and entirely inopportune, she just wanted to know what it felt to feel his lips on hers and see if he felt the same way she did. But then Rhodey had fallen out of the sky and everything had gone to hell.

They were currently in Wakanda, under the asylum of the newly crowned King T'Challa. The King was nice enough, Wanda supposed; she hadn't really had much of a chance to get to know him yet but she expected she would, seeing that they were going to be staying here for the foreseeable future. They hadn't heard a word from Tony, Rhodey, or Vizh-and maybe that was for the best. On their first night here, Steve had told them how the Winter Soldier had murdered Tony's parents; she guessed that Tony wasn't feeling very hospitable with any of them at the moment. But she did miss Vision.

She missed everything about him-there was no one to comfort her when she woke up from the nightmares, no one to ask her to interpret human nature, no one to read with her until she was so tired she couldn't help but fall asleep. He was her best friend, and she might as well have lost him forever.

Steve liked to say these things had a funny way of working out, but she wasn't sure she believed him-at least not about this. Vision was lost to her-and she hadn't realized what she'd had until it was too late. The sooner she got over it-over _him-_ the better. As Natasha liked to say, there were other fish in the sea.

But no Vizh. She knew that for sure.

Maybe it didn't matter-not that he was never coming back, not that he would never love her as anything more than a friend. After all, it wasn't as if it had all been for nothing-she was a different person because she'd met him, a _better_ person. She saw the beauty in the little things and she questioned life-why people were like they were, why things had to be the way they had always been. She was smarter, better, stronger-a different person that she hadn't been before he'd rescued her.

She owed him so much more than she could ever pay back, more than she could even describe. Yes, she missed him-but maybe that was what she deserved. Sooner or later, she lost everything she cared about-why shouldn't Vision be just another casualty?

She hoped he was happy without her to care for. Someday, she would move on and she'd be happy too.

She would never forget him though-not the android who had taken a chance on a broken girl and done everything in his power to build her back up. Who had shone her that there was still life worth living, even without her brother. Who had been there for her time and time again.

Who had proved to her that just because he was synthetic didn't mean he wasn't human-and her past didn't need to define her future.

~A~

 **But Somehow They Complete Each Other**

It's her birthday again.

It's been a year since what the world has been jokingly calling 'the Superhero Civil War', a year spent in Wakanda with the closest thing to a family she has. She never thought she'd be able to really fit in-but the other members of Team Cap have stepped up to the plate admirably. She knows each of them better than she did before-especially Scott and Bucky, who she didn't know at all.

But she still thinks about Vision every now and then, when the night is dark and she can't sleep. She thinks about him and she wonders what could have happened, what they could have become if they'd only had time. In the morning it's gone-she's too busy during the day to spare many thoughts for him-but he's always there, resting on the outskirts of her mind and scouring himself onto her heart. She still loves him, even after all this time. Distance hasn't changed that.

She thinks, briefly, that he should be here with her on her twenty third birthday. After all, she wouldn't be celebrating it if he hadn't saved her.

Just then, the door to her makeshift bedroom opened and Scott poked his head in. He was trying to keep a straight face but his eyes were practically dancing with excitement. "Happy birthday, Wanda! Hey, there's someone here to see you."

She raised an eyebrow curiously, wondering who he meant. There was no one she knew who wasn't already in the Wakandan compound. "Thank you-but what do you mean? Who's here?"

His eyes were still dancing. "Come on. He's waiting in the front parlor."

She rushed to follow him, heart already beating out of her chest in spite of herself and already beginning to hope-even with that one small sentence. _He….?_

~A~

She practically flew downstairs, heart pounding, head spinning, feeling hot and cold and wonderful all at the same time. What if he was here-what if he wasn't? Somehow she knew, even before they skidded to a stop outside the parlor and Scott pushed open the door, exactly who she was going to see inside.

He hadn't changed in a year. He still wore the same suit coat, had the same tiny furrow between his eyebrows, and gave her the same irresistible smile he'd always had as she skidded to a stop in the doorway and he said "Hello, Wanda. It's so nice to see you again." There was a slight tremor in his voice that she'd never heard there before-Vizh wasn't really one to get nervous, about anything really, but he sounded nervous now. _Why?_

For a minute she couldn't breathe-or do anything else, for that matter. She felt as if she'd stopped moving or even thinking because this was so...odd. How could he be here, of all places? And then her rational brain caught up to her and decided it didn't matter, propelling her forward and into his arms. At first she didn't say anything, just hugged him as tightly as she could-worried that if she let go, even for a second, he'd disappear again forever. Maybe this was just a weird dream; maybe she hadn't woken up yet. All of those options made more sense than the one staring her in the face. "Vizh." It was just one word, but she let it convey everything she felt for him in one word, one gesture. She could only hope he felt the same way. "I've missed you."

"And I have missed you." he replied, gently releasing her and looking her over appraisingly as if making sure she was still in one piece.

Scott cleared his throat, letting them both know he was still in the room. "I think I'll just let you two have a little alone time, okay?" He was already halfway out the door before he finished with "Just call out if you need anything!"

"Who is he?" Vision asked, confusion wrinkling his brow.

She sighed. "That's Scott. She didn't explain further; there was too much else to say in too little time. "How did you get here?"

"I mentioned to Sam on a secure channel that I was hoping to see you on your birthday. He told me where you were and I came as soon as I could."

"And no one saw you?"

"I don't exactly fly commercially."

She couldn't help laughing as she imagined how that would go down. "How are Tony and Rhodey?"

"Colonel Rhodes is becoming acquainted with his prosthetic leg quite nicely and Mr. Stark has reconnected with Mrs. Potts. How are you?"

"I'm...good." She still has scars on her back from where the straitjackets was strapped too tightly, but she's found that if she doesn't look at them she can pretend it never happened. "And what about you?"

"I'm...good as well-though I wished to see you, every single day. Wanda, I would have come earlier if I hadn't thought that it would compromise your safety and well being. And...I've never been able to stop thinking about you, much as I have tried."

Her heart was practically beating out of her chest, throwing itself against her rib cage was such force it was a wonder she wasn't covered in bruises. "Me too-and believe me, I've tried to move on. I thought you hated me. I thought, after what happened in the base...I thought you couldn't see me, or that you didn't want to-"

His words, when he interrupted, held surprising vehemence. "I could never hate you, Wanda. Never."

She gradually became aware of how close they were standing, toe to toe, his hand still lingering on her forearm. "You know, I really didn't mean to push you that far down-"

"It's all right. I understand. You were doing what you felt was right-and I was wrong to intern you. Although I believed I was keeping you safe, it was wrong of me and I can't tell you enough how sorry I am-not just about that but that things had to end the way they did. Perhaps there is a way I can make it up to you?"

"You don't need to-"

"I would like to stay here, in Wakanda, with you and the others. King T'Challa has already granted me permission, as has Captain Rogers...but I wished to get your input before I made any decisions."

It floored her. "Vizh, you don't need to apologize for anything. I appreciate that you were willing to protect me at all-even though I didn't want you to. And...I would be honored if you would stay here. You've already done so much for me, been there for me so many times I can't repay you for-"

"That is what friends do for each other, isn't it? You helped me learn how to be human and gave me reassurance when I doubted-there is nothing to repay." He cleared his throat again, looking almost uncomfortable as he added "Happy birthday, Wanda."

She knew what he was going to do the split second before he leaned down and kissed her, before the world as she knew it dissolved into nothing more than skin, lips, and pure uninterrupted bliss-the way his hand moved up to cup the back of her neck gently and tenderly, just like everything else he did. Unlike every time she'd imagined this moment-a thousand times over the past year, awake and asleep, in dreams and daydreams-his lips were warm, like a regular human's, instead of the cold she expected. Then again, he seemed to be practically humming with energy and warmth-a warmth that felt so human and so right that she couldn't believe his skin was vibranium.

There was no rhyme or reason to any of it but she didn't care because she was drowning, into the kiss, into him, into a thousand different realities she'd shut away that were now wondrously possible. And she loved him, she loved him more than she'd ever loved any other boy, this man who knew her and understood her better than anyone else she knew, who did whatever had to be done to keep her safe even if it included disregarding his own safety, and was always there for her no matter what with no judgments. She loved him she loved him she loved and she couldn't believe she hadn't realized it sooner, couldn't believe she had almost let him slip through her fingers…

"Okay...probably should have knocked first."

They broke apart so fast she slipped on the wooden floor and would have fallen if Vision hadn't reached out fluidly and caught her easily. Scott stood in the doorway, looking both gleeful and respectfully embarrassed. "Hey, there's birthday cake in the kitchen if you guys want some." he added, making himself scarce as soon as he could.

For a moment they just stared at each other, caught up in the memory, looking around tentatively as if wondering whether or not they'd ruined everything.

"That was nice." Wanda said, getting her bearings first. "Probably the best birthday present I've gotten all day."

His smile was all honey and sugar when he said "Happy birthday, Wanda." and held her close one last time before they went to see whether Sam had gone ahead and cut the cake because he got tired of waiting for them.

The words _I love you_ hung unspoken between them, hovering in the air like a silent promise.

~A~

Despite what Wanda may have said, Vision didn't think he'd ever felt as human as he did when he was kissing her, or thinking about kissing her or thinking about loving her in general. Never before had his heart pounded so rapidly or his head spun so quickly; never before had he felt such a profound sense of relief that the universe had seen fit to give him another chance.

This time, he wasn't going to waste it.

He would sneak glances at her every so often over the top of his piece of cake, watching as she laughed and joked with Steve and Bucky about someone they'd met while on the run. She looked radiant with happiness, brown hair cascading down her back and eyes dancing. She was so beautiful, anyone could see that-and she was his. She loved him and he loved her. And suddenly that made everything worth it-every restless night, every time he'd thought he'd lost her forever because he was too afraid, to tell her he loved her. Somehow, inexplicably, things had worked out.

Now he met her eyes, trying to get her attention without drawing too much attention to them-he was sure the others knew what he was feeling (perhaps they'd known for a long time) but they were too polite to say anything. She grinned and came to sit next to him; for the first time, he realized there was a trace of frosting under her eye. "Hello."

"Hello." he replied, carefully wiping the frosting away with one finger. He didn't give himself time to think or reconsider before he added. "I love you. I couldn't tell you before, but…"

"I know." she replied, filling in their silence before it could get awkward. "And I love you too."

They sat there together for a long time with their hands entwined, not caring who saw them. The world would keep on spinning, that was a given; but they had each other. And that made it all right, no matter what happened.

They completed each other. They were each other's humanities, bringing light, life, and hope in a world that too often held nothing but broken dreams and cracked destinies.

He couldn't believe he hadn't figured it out sooner.

~A~

The road to love is almost never quick, nor is it easy. More often than not it's filled with starts and stops, detours, u turns, and shortcuts that often turn out to be more trouble than they're worth. But eventually it works out-maybe things don't fall into place right away, maybe it doesn't happen overnight, but if it's meant to be it eventually finds a way.

Even with Avengers, who were already plenty busy in their own rights, things weren't straightforward. Wanda and Vision didn't fall in love right away, nor did they really realize it was happening until it was nearly gone. But love is love, and love demands to be heard and felt.

They weren't perfect-one was too innocent, the other too scarred; one too naive, the other not willing to trust-but the imperfections made them who they were, and made them closer. It gave them common ground where they otherwise would have had none, paving a way for things that never would have been possible otherwise.

Vision realized that just because he wasn't human, in the barest sense of the word, he didn't have to be an emotionless and indifferent machine. And it taught Wanda that even though she'd been hurt so many times (but never quite broken) she could still be loved and still find the acceptance she'd only ever found with her brother. It didn't happen overnight, but when they finally realized it they wondered why they'd never seen it in the first place.

If they'd been looking, if they could review their first year-from Sokovia to Leipzig and every little moment in between, they'd be able to pick out the days and the memories that stuck with them-a look here, a glance there, maybe a conversation or two. Reasons and justifications for a romance that shouldn't be possible but was somehow all too real.

And after a while, they began to realize they couldn't-and wouldn't want to-imagine it any other way.

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